The Preacher's Wife
by anotherredhead
Summary: Matt's and Kitty's relationship is tested early by an overzealous new preacher in town.
1. Chapter 1

Standard character disclaimers apply. Thanks to your encouragement, I decided to try this one more time.

Historical note: There was actually a Union Church established in Dodge in the 1870's, and this story began out of my desire to look at Matt and Kitty from possible religious perspectives of the time. By all accounts, the real Union Church minister was a lovely man; however, this story required a different kind of minister who shares nothing with him except a last name, which was too ironic not to use. Frederick and Julia Wright are my own creations.

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 1

"_My beloved is mine and I am his, he pastures his flock among the lilies. Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, be like a gazelle, or a young stag upon rugged mountains." Song of Solomon, 2:16-17_

**Wednesday morning**

Kitty had been tossing and turning most of the night, trying desperately to ignore the snorting and grunting sounds coming from the left side of her bed. She had covered her ears with a pillow to no avail, and in a fit of frustration briefly fantasized about using it to muffle the offending noise. She had nudged, poked, and attempted to roll the man lying next to her over on his side, but he was twice her size and she didn't stand a chance.

Matt didn't always snore, mainly having the problem after returning from days on the trail and collapsing in exhaustion. The hard ground and cold night air were no substitute for a soft bed and warm lover, and he rarely slept well during these trips. He wasn't aware of it, but Kitty never slept well during those trips either. It wasn't just the loneliness of the empty space beside her—there were plenty of nights when he didn't sleep in her bed. She simply couldn't turn her brain off, imagining every ugly scenario that might keep him from coming back to her, knowing that there was nothing she could do except wait and hope.

He had once again made it back safely, though, and that was worth this little irritation. Kitty finally drifted off a couple of hours before dawn, more of a deep grogginess than real sleep. Matt was up at sunrise as usual, throwing his clothes on with the familiar intention of quietly slipping back to the jail before the town was awake enough to notice. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead, not expecting to get a reaction. If there was anything about their bodies that was not compatible, it was their internal clocks. Perhaps it was years of keeping saloon hours, but Kitty was a night owl who had been known to get up at the crack of noon. Matt, on the other hand, sometimes fought to stay awake when their rendezvous were scheduled late, and his job demanded that he be alert early in the morning. But that had certainly been the only incompatibility their bodies had experienced since they had begun this phase of their relationship almost a year ago.

"Good Morning," Kitty said sleepily as she felt the brush of his lips.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly.

"You didn't wake me," she replied. He knew something must be amiss if Kitty Russell was not asleep at sunup. "Is everything OK?" he asked.

"Everything is fine," she replied. "I just couldn't get to sleep."

"Was I snoring again? I'm sorry, Honey. I always seem to keep you up when I first get back. I shouldn't have slept here," he said apologetically.

"Well, that wouldn't have been any fun," she said with a drowsy smile, taking his hand and pulling him onto the bed with her. He gave her a real kiss this time, slow and lingering, then squeezed her hand between his before telling her goodbye. "I'll be back to take you to dinner," he said. "Try to get a little sleep, OK? You don't have to be up for a while."

Kitty rolled over and hugged his pillow, pretending he was still in bed with her and looking forward to dinner. With that, she drifted off to sleep.

Unlike Kitty, Matt had slept like a baby and was ready to face the day. He crept into the jail to find Chester snoozing in his cot. He winced as the floorboards loudly creaked, sending Chester quickly up on his elbows.

"Well Mister Dillon, when did you git back?" asked his trusted assistant, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Last night" Matt said casually, picking up the large stack of mail that had accumulated on his desk while he was away.

"Well I didn't see you..." Chester stopped mid-sentence as Matt shot him a look, suddenly realizing that the Marshal's whereabouts last night were not up for discussion. "I mean, I'm glad yer back," he finished.

"How were things while I was gone?" Matt asked.

"Oh, just fine," Chester replied, getting up and grabbing the coffee pot to start one of his famous brews. "No trouble a'tall."

"Glad to hear it," Matt said.

Matt patiently made his way through the stack of mail, wondering how that much could have happened in three days. There was a lot of paperwork associated with being a U.S. Marshal, and it wasn't always exciting. But then again, a day lacking excitement was not a bad thing in this job. He spent a good part of the day writing letters and sending wires, mostly about trials and appeals in which he might be involved. He was particularly dreading a couple of them—one of the difficult parts of his job was testifying against people he knew and seeing some basically decent folks go to jail over stupid mistakes. Knowing he was doing his sworn duty didn't always alleviate his uneasiness with that responsibility.

What did alleviate his uneasiness was talking to Kitty. Matt didn't open up to many people, it wasn't his nature. But she was his sounding board, and she offered a kind of insight and comfort that he had never experienced from anyone else in his life. Kitty was also his eyes and ears around Dodge when he wasn't there and had a keen intuition about people that he had learned to trust. She had become an integral part of his small inner circle of friends when she arrived in Dodge almost 3 years ago. And for the past year, she had become much more than that.

Matt rubbed his tired eyes and looked at the clock. It was nearly dinner time. He stood up and stretched his long legs, then put on his hat and headed over to The Long Branch to make good on his promise to the woman he had left sleeping in bed just a few hours earlier.

The saloon wasn't crowded yet, most of its thriving business wouldn't be arriving until later in the evening. Matt walked in to find Bill Pence washing glasses as his redheaded partner was arranging assorted rolls and pastries in a basket at the end of the bar. "Hello, Cowboy," Kitty said playfully as Matt made his way over to her.

"Hello, Kitty," he replied with a slight tip of the hat. "What are you doing there?"

"Oh, just getting rid of a few leftovers," she replied.

Matt smiled as he saw her filling the basket with food that was definitely not leftovers. She made a habit out of buying end of the day specials at the bakery a couple of times a week and taking them to a large family in town who had fallen on hard times. Of course they didn't want charity, and she had no intention of letting them feel it was such. So she managed to be involved in a variety of vague social events where it ended up they had too much food, and it sure was nice to know it wasn't going to waste. No wonder I love her, Matt thought to himself.

They decided to head over to Delmonico's before she made her delivery. The dinner rush had not begun and their meals came quickly. Joking about the quality of the food at Delmonico's had become a town pastime, and tonight was no exception. Kitty was trying to guess which part of the cow her steak had come from when a young couple walked in and was seated near the window. The man stared at them almost in amusement, but the woman seemed upset. She was holding her left arm unnaturally against her stomach, as if she was wearing an invisible sling. "Don't look now, but isn't that your secret friend and her charming husband?" Matt whispered. It was indeed, and the look on her friend's face bothered Kitty. But she didn't dare let on that she knew the woman.


	2. Chapter 2

The Preacher's Wife  


Chapter 2

"_For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." __1 Samuel 16:7b_

**Three Months Earlier**

The newly established Union Church of Dodge stood on the corner of First and Spruce Streets, a small wood frame building with rows of hard pews facing a plain large cross that hung behind a podium. Each Sunday morning dozens of town faithful gathered to hear the Reverend Frederick Wright preach the word of God. Despite his inexperience, the enthusiastic young pastor had begun his very first assignment with complete faith in his ability to turn Dodge City into a town that less resembled Sodom and Gomorrah.

Frederick Wright was the son of a minister and seemed to have been destined to become one himself. His father, The Reverend Charles Wright, led The Plymouth Congregational Church of Lawrence, the first church of its kind in the territory. Miraculously, the church had survived the famous Lawrence Massacre of 1863, when pro-Confederate guerilla William Quantrill led a raid which left almost 200 dead and most buildings burned to the ground. Charles Wright saw his survival and that of his church as a sign that God had great plans for him. A widower since Frederick's birth, he dragged his small son around town with him as he preached at local saloons and other businesses, convinced that God had instilled in him the ability to turn Lawrence from its wicked ways. It was a losing battle—he had underestimated the population's fondness for drinking, gambling, and women—and Charles took the failure particularly hard. He threw himself into his son's religious education, and Frederick turned out to be a quick study. An incredibly bright child and early reader, he could quote Bible verses like a scholar by the time he was eight. It was to his advantage to get all the words right, as his father neither spared the rod nor spoiled the child in his devotion to Biblical parenting. Had his wife lived, Charles was sure his son would have received the nurturing that the weaker sex had been equipped to provide—but he was a man, and Frederick would have to make do with the one parent God had given him.

As an adult preacher, Frederick was a confident speaker with a booming voice and polished delivery that captured the attention of even the least enthusiastic worshippers. His sermons were known to last well over an hour, carefully crafted to blend a few comforting assurances about God's mercy and grace with the vivid descriptions of hell. He had learned that people didn't always like fire and brimstone, but he could soften the blow with some flowery verses about love that made this important message more palatable. The worn Bible he always carried was frequently slammed down on the podium for effect, ensuring that there was never a soul who slept through church. It was a trick he had learned from his father.

Julia Wright was the new preacher's wife, a plain woman who looked like she might be quite attractive with a small amount of attention to detail. Her blonde hair hung loosely below her shoulders and often looked like it could use a good brushing. Like most blondes she had pale skin, and without makeup her light brows and lashes did nothing to accent her lovely blue eyes. Her petite figure was well hidden under her few modest dresses, which her husband had picked out as appropriate for church. He told her he wanted her to look good enough to show proper respect to God, but not so good that anyone else should notice. And for the most part, they didn't.

She had tried to make friends with the other women at church, but no one seemed comfortable talking to Julia. She naturally blamed herself, not considering that it had much more to do with the fact that she was standing next to a man who was so intimidating. While his words were usually polite and appropriate, his manner was arrogant. Having received his Doctor of Divinity from the University of Kansas, he was quick to refer to himself as "Reverend Doctor Frederick Wright" in order to impress upon this largely uneducated town his superiority of knowledge. After three months, the congregation still wasn't sure what to make of this overbearing man who served as the inaugural head of the church they had worked so hard to build. They wanted to like him, but he often made it hard. At best, they found his demeanor off-putting. But the consensus was that they hadn't much choice—they were lucky to even have a church, and there wasn't exactly a line of preachers eager to take on the sin capital of the west.

Julia would not have naturally gravitated toward such a man, but she had little choice in the matter. Theirs was a marriage arranged by domineering fathers who had taken control of their children's lives. Frederick had completed his education and was ready to begin his career as a preacher, and his father thought he needed a wife. Not only would she make him more relatable to the families he would be serving, but ministering was more than a full-time job and someone should take care of the home. Julia's family belonged to the elder Reverend Wright's church, and her younger sister was engaged to the organist's son. But when Julia had no suitors by the ripe age of 18, the two fathers began to talk. Julia was exactly the kind of wife a pastor needed, they had decided—happy, innocent, obedient, and eager to please. After 6 months of marriage, she remained all of these things except happy.

Kitty Russell and Julia Wright had struck up an unlikely friendship, seeming to have almost nothing in common except their welcoming smiles and helpful natures. They had first crossed paths at the General Store shortly after the Wrights moved to Dodge. Julia knew it wasn't polite to stare but couldn't help admiring this woman's appearance—fiery red hair in a perfect bun, makeup accenting a beautiful face, and the kind of stylish dress she had only seen illustrated in magazines. Kitty remembered what it was like to be new in town and cheerfully introduced herself, offering to share the benefit of her experience as a now seasoned citizen. Julia was grateful that someone actually wanted to talk to her and excitedly accepted Kitty's invitation to continue their conversation over coffee across the street. Her husband had several errands to run and she had plenty of time.

Kitty began filling her in on the best places to shop and eat in Dodge, as well as some social events she and her husband might enjoy. The Ford County Sociable was coming up and Kitty reminisced about how much fun that had been last year—food and drinks, music and dancing. Julia smiled appreciatively at the information but replied wistfully, "I'm afraid my husband wouldn't approve. Frederick says alcohol is the devil's poison, and dancing leads to lustful thoughts."

"Oh..." Kitty said awkwardly, not sure how to continue.

"He's not a bad man, Miss Russell," she offered, sounding as though she might be trying to convince herself. Kitty thought it was an odd statement for a woman to make about her husband. "He's just very…rigid. He loves the Lord and sees it as his calling to make sure everyone else loves him too. The thing is, Frederick doesn't always see love the way other folks do. And he thinks his way is the only way."

"Please, call me Kitty," she said with a smile, trying not to show the unflattering impression she was getting of The Reverend Wright.

"And you can call me Julia," she said, smiling back.

"Please tell me if this is too personal, but does it bother you that he's…well, as you said, so rigid?" Kitty asked sincerely.

"It's a lot on a man's shoulders when he feels responsible for other people's salvation," she said. "I don't always understand why he thinks the way he does, but he says it's not my place to understand. Ephesians 5:22: 'Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.' Frederick likes that verse a lot."

Kitty was well acquainted with that verse, and she wasn't quite so keen on it.

"What is your husband doing while I'm enjoying your company?" she said lightly, hoping to change the subject.

"He's ordering some new suits for work," she replied. Frederick thought that he, unlike his wife, should be dressed well enough for people to notice. "And then he's going to talk to the Marshal."

"Oh, he is?" Kitty asked. "Well, I'm sure Marshal Dillon will make him feel very welcome here."

"You know him?" Julia asked.

"Yes, he's a good friend of mine," she replied casually.

"Frederick says it's his calling to bring some morality to this city," she said. "He wants the Marshal's help in getting rid of the sinful laws, drinking and gambling and such, just like his father tried to do in Lawrence. Frederick says he's not going to fail God like his father did."

Kitty was suddenly painfully aware that Frederick Wright would be less than thrilled with the company his wife was keeping.

"Julia, I have to tell you something," she said. "It hasn't come up yet, but I think you need to know what I do for a living. I am the co-owner of The Long Branch Saloon down the street."

"I see," Julia said quietly.

"I like you a lot, and I would be delighted if we could be friends. But I don't want to cause problems for you. I understand if your husband wouldn't…well, as I said, I don't want to cause problems," she tried to explain without embarrassing either of them.

Julia looked down in uncomfortable silence before finally responding. "Kitty, this is the best day I've had in a long time," she said. "And I think you're about the nicest person I've ever met. I can't imagine that God could find much wrong with us being friends."

"But your husband—"

"There's nothing that says I have to tell him everything," she quickly interjected. "You're the only friend I've made here. It would mean a lot to me if we could see each other again."

"Sure we can," Kitty smiled, feeling both genuine fondness and pity for this sweet girl. Kitty couldn't imagine how any woman could have married a man like Frederick. But if there was one lesson life had taught Kitty Russell, it was not to judge other people's decisions.

After that day, Julia Wright found a reason to make the short walk into town as often as possible, sharing her hopes and dreams, her fears and problems, with the nice lady she had met at the General Store—who just happened to run a saloon.


	3. Chapter 3

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 3

"_Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight."__Isaiah 5:21_

**Thursday morning**

Matt Dillon was a deeply spiritual man, with an unwavering belief that mankind was served by a just higher power. He knew the Bible well, and being a man of few words and bottom lines, had decided that the entire book could be condensed into one sentence—"Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you." There had been few days when he had not lived his life according to the Golden Rule.

Matt was also a very private man—one who was uncomfortable putting his faith on public display and felt no need for spiritual guidance from anyone but his maker. He accepted, as Chester had once told him, that he had this God-given talent for protecting people and serious responsibilities that came with it. He figured that the same God who had entrusted him with these abilities surely had also given him the good sense to know how to use them. He had nothing but respect for sincere churchgoing people, he just happened to not be one of them.

Matt's one and only conversation with the Reverend Frederick Wright—the day his wife was making her one and only friend in Dodge—had been a memorable one. Walking into the U.S. Marshal's office wearing an immaculate suit and carrying his Bible, Matt found the man's smug manner in keeping with the reputation that preceded him. He had not been in town for long, but word was already spreading about the new pastor.

Frederick's business with the Marshal was simple: he had been sent by God to clean up Dodge City and needed his help. Matt politely explained that City Council passed the laws and he enforced them. If the Reverend didn't like the laws that existed, it was his right—as it was every citizen's—to follow the legal procedure required to get them changed. That involved collecting enough signatures to bring the laws in question to a vote.

From there, the conversation had taken a turn for the worse. The Reverend Doctor Wright, as he had introduced himself, requested Matt's assistance in collecting signatures and persuading citizens to support his mission. Matt had refused, saying it was not his business or inclination to mix religion and politics. Matt was as even tempered as they come, but this man would test the patience of Job. After a terse exchange with voices raised, the pastor had left the Marshal's office quite unsatisfied, but no less determined.

It was thus not the most welcome of news when Chester looked out the window Thursday morning and told Matt that the preacher's buggy had just stopped in front of the office. His wife stepped down carrying a shopping sack, and Chester saw her walking toward the General Store as Frederick Wright headed their way.

Matt had no idea what he wanted now but was determined not to lose his temper this time. His opinion of The Reverend had only gotten less favorable since their first meeting. For one thing, it stuck in his craw that the man's wife had to hide her friendship with Kitty. He knew there would always be people who disapproved of Kitty, but it would never stop bothering him. Especially when the man sitting in judgment of her was as odious as this one.

Ever the professional, Matt greeted Frederick Wright with a pleasant tone. "Good Morning, Reverend. What can I do for you today?"

"Good morning, Marshal," he returned. He was wearing another impressive suit, and Matt was beginning to wonder if that Bible was somehow stuck to his hand.

"I was hoping you had a few minutes to discuss a private matter," Frederick began, shooting a look at Chester like he was an ant colony at a picnic.

"Certainly," Matt replied. "Chester, can you go to the Post Office and see if those new wanted posters came in?"

"Sure Mister Dillon," Chester replied, looking suspiciously at the pastor as he left for his unnecessary errand.

Matt motioned for Frederick to take the seat across from him. Frederick wasted no time in getting to the point. "Marshal, I'm sure you are aware that I have been attempting to collect signatures to have drinking and gambling eradicated from this town."

Matt was all too aware of that fact. Frederick had been able to recruit only a couple of zealots from his own congregation in the effort—two older women who were famous town gossips and moral authorities—and they had been a constant nuisance ever since.

"How's that working out for you?" Matt deadpanned.

"Not as well as I had hoped," he replied, "though I'm sure you already knew that."

"What exactly can I help you with, Reverend?" Matt asked, already starting to get annoyed.

"Here is my dilemma, Marshal," he started. "The people of this town have a very high opinion of you. They tell me that you restored law and order here when no one else could, that they are safe to walk the streets because of you. They are very grateful. You seem to be some sort of hero to them."

"And this is a dilemma?" Matt asked sarcastically.

"As I told you during our first meeting, God has charged me with the task of ridding this city of legalized sin", he replied. "I have found that to be nearly impossible when the town hero supports these activities."

"Look Reverend, we've been over this," Matt said, sighing. "My job is to enforce the law, and that is what I do. My personal feelings about those laws are inconsequential."

"Oh, but you're wrong Marshal," Frederick said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "I believe there are a lot of people who would be interested in knowing just how much your personal feelings have to do with the law in this town."

Matt had no idea what he was talking about, but he was getting angrier by the minute.

"I learned a few things from my father's experience in Lawrence," he continued. Certain operations seem to exist 'at the Law's discretion,' am I right?" he asked.

"Exactly what are you getting at?" Matt demanded.

"The _saloon girls_," he continued, sounding as if merely speaking the term had left a nasty taste in his mouth. "Surely you are aware that they are often paid for more than dancing skills and sparkling conversation. And I suppose you could overlook that, for the right price."

Keeping order in a town overrun with gunfights, brawls, robberies, and murders meant that the smart law man learned to pick his battles. Matt's common sense approach to keeping the peace and respecting the privacy of consenting adults meant that his jail was reserved for the abundance of people who were truly a danger to society.

At Reverend Wright's comment, Matt leapt out of his chair and leaned over the table, getting as close to the pastor's face as physically possible. "Mister, if you are suggesting that I can be bought you are WAY out of line."

"I can't prove that money has changed hands," he replied calmly. "But there are other ways of getting paid—say, sexual favors from the owner of The Long Branch."

Matt glared at him with his best poker face, trying desperately not to show how far his heart has just dropped in his chest. Where did that come from?

"Do you deny that you are fornicating with her?" The Reverend pressed.

"I'm not going to confirm or deny anything that is clearly none of your business," Matt said angrily, louder than he intended.

"I understand now why you were so opposed to helping me," Frederick said. "It would obviously be in Miss Russell's interest to keep drinking and gambling legal here, and to have the Law disinterested in certain extracurricular activities. And it appears she is making it worth your while."

Matt had dealt with the most unsavory of criminals in his history as a law man, but never had he wanted to punch a man's lights out as much as he did at that moment. He had to steady himself to keep from doing something he would regret. Not only was this man falsely attacking his integrity, he was making a loving relationship sound cheap and tawdry.

Matt started to respond but the Reverend was on a roll. "You have a choice to make, Marshal. You can either repent and join my efforts, or suffer the consequences of your own sinful actions."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Matt, his eyes narrowing.

"1 Corinthians: 'Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.' I have a sermon written on that verse for Sunday. The pen is mightier than the sword, Marshal. Or in this case perhaps, the gun. As much as I would hate to do it, I believe my congregation has the right to know the truth about the man who calls the shots around here. And I promise you, after I'm done, they will know the difference between a hero and a whoremonger. So will the War Department when I report this corruption."

Matt could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Is that a threat?" he asked, standing up straight and towering a good ten inches over a man he had an overwhelming urge to squash like a cockroach.

"Of course not," Wright responded too nicely. "Please tell me it's not illegal in this town to give a sermon."

Unable to hide his disgust anymore, Matt quickly brushed past him and flung the door open. "I think you'd better go," he said abruptly.

"Good day, Marshall," the pastor responded with a slight nod and smile as he walked out and headed toward the General Store to collect his wife.

By mid afternoon Matt had decided, after biting Chester's head off and curtly refusing Doc's invitation to lunch, that he had to talk to Kitty. As difficult as this conversation would be, they had no secrets.

When he walked into The Long Branch, his stomach in knots, Bill Pence told him she had been in her room since he had gotten there and had asked not to be disturbed. He thanked Bill and bounded up the steps anyway, stopping when he got to her door and pausing before gently knocking.

"Kitty?" he said softly. "Are you in there?"

No answer. He turned the doorknob and it was locked. Knocking harder, he said, "Kitty? Answer me, Honey, I need to know that you're OK."

Finally, a weak voice responded. "I can't talk right now. I need to be alone. Please understand." She sounded as though she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Did something happen? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine. I'll talk to you later, but not right now. Please respect my wishes, Matt. I beg of you."

He wanted to break the door down and take her in his arms, telling her that whatever was wrong would be alright. He would make it alright. But if there was anything Matt Dillon understood, it was the need to be alone. And the need for other people to respect that.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he said gently. "I'll come back later."

He waited for a reply that didn't come. He slowly turned away from the door and made his way back downstairs. Bill Pence gave him the sympathetic look of a man who was aware that something was terribly wrong but knew better than to ask about it.


	4. Chapter 4

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 4

"_Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ_." _Galatians 6:2_

**Friday morning**

By 5am, Matt had given up hope of getting any sleep. He quietly got out of his cot and removed his long johns, changing into his normal work clothes and slipping outside as Chester slept in the cot next to him. He was exhausted yet wide awake, nerves and adrenaline keeping his mind and body going like a perpetual motion machine. The cool morning air stung his exposed face and hands, though he seemed not to notice as he walked toward Moss Grimmick's stable.

He had no plan, he just needed to go somewhere alone and think. As he tacked up his horse, he wondered if Kitty was asleep or if she had suffered the same miserable night.

Matt Dillon was not ashamed of his relationship with the sexy proprietress of The Long Branch Saloon. On the contrary, he couldn't have been more thrilled that she was his woman. Not that he owned her, of course—Kitty Russell could not be owned. Other women might have accepted being treated like property, obeying orders and living in quiet submission as was expected of them, but not Kitty. Fiercely independent and sometimes too stubborn for her own good, she belonged to a man only if she chose to give herself to him. And she had given herself to Matt—mind, body, and soul.

That he had fallen so in love with such a firecracker said as much about Matt Dillon as any action he had ever taken. A large man with an intimidating presence, he had no desire to dominate a woman. His job, often to his anguish, required him to use his considerable strength and abilities to fight, even kill men. But with the women in his life, those muscular arms, those big hands, had only been used in the gentlest and most loving of ways.

Unlike many men, Matt wasn't looking for a woman to keep house and bear him sons. Truthfully, he had never really _looked_ for a woman at all. His job was dangerous and he had decided long ago that he could not in good conscience risk creating a widow with fatherless children. But he was still a man, the kind of man who was undeniably intrigued by and attracted to strong women who challenged him, both personally and intellectually. There were a few in his past, but none had captured his heart like Kitty Russell.

She too had a past, and she had been completely honest with him about it. The details weren't pretty and she had taken a huge risk in telling him—men like Matt Dillon didn't come along every day. But pretty or not, those past experiences had helped create this amazing woman who had walked into his life three years ago, a woman who still made him go weak in the knees every time he looked at her. Her confession had only caused him to admire even more that she had turned such a difficult journey into the success story she had become. She no longer had to cater to the desires of men she cared nothing about—she was the boss in this new life of hers. And Matt couldn't be happier with his place in it.

He rode Buck for several miles, nowhere in particular, his mind racing as fast as his horse. How did the Reverend know about him and Kitty? They had been so careful, so discreet. What kind of danger would she be in if this man publicized their relationship? What kinds of awful things might he say about her? Matt had spent hours replaying yesterday's conversation in his head, chewing on the information and feeling it sour in his stomach. He didn't care what this self-righteous windbag thought or even said about him, and he knew enough about the War Department not to fear such a useless complaint. It was Kitty he was worried about. He couldn't imagine how, but he was certain she already knew. It was too much of a coincidence that she was this upset on the same day Dodge City's self-appointed guardian of virtue had threatened to expose them.

Daylight had burned for several hours when Matt decided he'd had enough alone time. He was actually getting a little hungry, having not eaten since breakfast the previous day. Besides, nothing was getting resolved out here. He stopped to let Buck get a drink before heading home. When he got back, he quickly tied up his horse before making his way to the office. The door opened just as he was reaching for the knob, and he and Chester nearly collided.

"Oh, pardon me Mister Dillon," said Chester apologetically. "I didn't see you ride up. I've been wonderin' where you could've gone. Miss Kitty came here lookin' for you and I didn't know what to tell 'er. You must've left here awful early, 'cause I've been up a good spell myself."

"Kitty came by? When? How was she?" Matt asked, realizing he sounded more anxious than he cared to explain.

"Oh, I'd say it was 'bout an hour ago," Chester responded. "She looked fine, I mean you know she always looks real nice. She was kinda quiet, though, not like her usual self. I asked her if anything was wrong and she said nothin' I needed to worry about. I said I'd tell you she came by."

"Thanks, Chester," Matt said sincerely. "And, um…about yesterday. I know I was in a bad mood, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry about that. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"That's alright, Mister Dillon," Chester said. "Ain't no need to apologize." Matt smiled appreciatively at the man who had become like a brother to him before briskly making his way to The Long Branch. He found Kitty sitting alone at a table, looking as though she was working on the books but clearly not concentrating on the task. She looked up as the doors swung open and gave him a weak smile.

"Hi Matt," she said softly.

"Kitty, are you OK?" Matt asked, quickly taking the seat next to her and putting his hand on her arm. Her eyes were puffy and she was clearly exhausted. "What happened yesterday?"

"Matt, I know that Reverend Wright came to see you," she said.

"But how?" he asked. "I haven't told anyone."

"Julia," she replied, as she began relaying the details of a fateful visit from her anguished young friend.


	5. Chapter 5

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 5

"_Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy." Proverbs 27:6_

She had been instructed to pick up a list of items at the General Store, but Julia Wright knew she had to make a stop first. She couldn't let Kitty think that she had anything to do with this. She had run toward The Long Branch as soon as she saw Frederick disappear into the Marshal's office. Over the batwing doors, she could see Kitty leisurely drinking a cup of coffee at the end of the bar.

She rushed in, out of breath and clearly upset. "Kitty, I have to talk to you."

"What's wrong?" Kitty asked, confused and concerned.

"It's Frederick. He thinks I'm at the General Store. Kitty, he's talking to Marshal Dillon as we speak. He's telling him that he knows about…I mean, that he's going to tell everyone…." Julia couldn't get the words out. She didn't want to sound crude, and more than anything she didn't want to hurt the only person in town who made her feel like she mattered.

"He's going to tell everyone _what_?" Kitty asked impatiently.

"That the Marshal condones immoral businesses in this town because you pay him with sex," she blurted out uncomfortably.

"That's not true!" Kitty cried, feeling suddenly weak and sick to her stomach. What could he possibly know about her and Matt? Who would tell him such an awful thing?

Julia took a deep breath. The pained look on Kitty's face was almost more than she could bear.

"Kitty, you have to know I don't believe that," she said through tears. "But Frederick saw the Marshal come in here Tuesday night, and he watched the door until he saw him leave—early the next morning. He said there's only one reason for a man to be sneaking out of a woman's room at dawn. "

Her mind was a blur, and she couldn't even remember what day it was. Tuesday night…what were they doing? Oh God, Tuesday night—that was when Matt got back into town. And the next morning, she was hardly awake when he left at dawn. It was true. She had hoped for a millisecond that he was bluffing, but he had seen Matt leaving her place at dawn.

"What you do—that's between you and the Marshal, and maybe between you and God, but it's none of my business," Julia said, sounding as sincere as a person could. "But Frederick is determined to make it his. You've been such a good friend to me, I had to warn you about what he's going to do."

Kitty was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that this man had spied on them, and it almost made her retch. She felt more violated than she had ever felt before, even in her old life. What kind of pervert stays up all night just to watch a man leave her bedroom? This was her worst nightmare—Matt was so insistent that no one know about them, what was he going to do now? Questions were running through her mind so quickly she could hardly think.

"I don't understand," she finally choked out. "Why does he care what we do?"

"Frederick is a paranoid, jealous man," she said. That wasn't news to Kitty—Julia's stories about life with Frederick had given her that impression, though she wasn't sure Julia intended them to.

"People here haven't taken to him at all, and he thinks it's the Marshal's fault," she continued. "It's been eating him up inside that they respect the Marshal more than him, the Marshal not being a churchgoing man and all. Frederick says it's not right that he carries a Bible and people act like he's the devil, while Marshal Dillon carries a gun and people act like he's God. Then I heard those two old bitties who have been helping him collect signatures tell him that there were rumors about you and the Marshal. I guess he figured he might find a way to change things."

Kitty looked pale, and Julia put her arms tightly around her friend. "I had no idea, you have to believe me," Julia begged. "When he left that evening he told me he was meeting with church people to talk about the petitions. He's been doing that a lot lately. I didn't know what to think when he didn't come home all night—to be honest, it was kind of a relief to have him gone."

Kitty was sure this was true. Frederick certainly seemed like the kind of man one would enjoy having gone.

"When he got home yesterday morning he wouldn't tell me where he'd been. I didn't know anything until…I found it." Julia shivered as she remembered the horror of that moment.

"Found what?" Kitty asked, certain she didn't want to know.

"His sermon for Sunday," she said, looking down. "He had locked himself in our room all day. I thought he was sleeping, but it must have taken him hours to write. I found it on the desk when he finally came out to take a bath. It was ten pages long, and I almost couldn't read it. It said…I mean, he called you and the Marshal…" Julia trailed off, looking at Kitty with pleading eyes that said, "Don't make me say the words I saw on that paper."

Kitty stared blankly ahead. So this is how it ends, she thought. As despicable as Revered Wright was, she was even more upset with herself at that moment. She had somehow managed to convince herself that she was good enough for Matt Dillon. Or maybe he was the one who had convinced her, but regardless, she should have known better. She didn't care for herself, her reputation wasn't worth that much. But Matt relied on his reputation to do his job, and that job was his life. Now, barring some miracle, it was going to be destroyed because of her. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to live with that.

"I was so upset I tore it in half, right in front of him," Julia continued to explain. "Frederick was furious. I told him he had no right. 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.' He grabbed my arm and twisted it hard, he said no woman was fit to preach to _him_. "

The thought of that weasel laying a hand on her sent a chill up Kitty's spine. "Oh Honey, is that what was wrong with your arm in the restaurant last night?" she asked, her own problems taking a back seat to her friend. Julia nodded and put down her shopping sack, rolling up her sleeve to reveal several very subtle bruises around her elbow that were about the size of a man's thumb and fingers. Kitty bit her lip. She had seen marks like that before, she'd had a few herself. But they were supposed to be left by drunk cowboys, not preachers.

"He told me we were going out to dinner to show the town a proper Christian couple," Julia said, sounding almost sarcastic. "Some couple—I'm pretty sure even proper Christian men can make love to their wives." Kitty raised her eyebrows as Julia's cheeks flushed. She had been taught that ladies didn't talk about such private matters—but after what Frederick had done to Kitty, privacy didn't seem so sacred anymore.

Things were slowly starting to make sense. Julia had told Kitty that Frederick had a temper, that he would yell and accuse her of looking at other men. Why, she wondered, would he think that about sweet, innocent Julia? Now she understood. If there was one thing Kitty Russell knew, it was men—what made them tick, and what made them crazy. An emasculated man was like a rabid dog—unpredictable and dangerous. Throw in a desperate need for adulation and a dose of religious fanaticism, and you had a man with disdain for women and contempt for virile, admirable men. In other words, you had Frederick Wright.

Julia saw her shopping sack sitting on the floor and got a sudden look of panic. "I have to go before he sees I'm not at the General Store," she said anxiously as she turned to run out of the saloon.

"Julia, please…" Kitty started, unsure of why she was attempting to stop her from leaving. Julia stopped and turned back, looking at her with a mixture of sorrow and fear.

"Never mind," Kitty said. There was nothing Julia could do. Sunday was two days away. There was nothing anyone could do.


	6. Chapter 6

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 6

"_Love covers a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8_

Kitty looked sheepishly at Matt as they sat alone at the table. "I'm sorry about yesterday," she said. "After Julia told me everything…I just couldn't face anyone. Especially you. I needed time to make sense of this myself before I could talk about it."

Matt squeezed her arm. "It's OK, Honey."

"I understand what you have to do," she said through tears.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Matt, you've worked so hard to get where you are, but you can't do your job if people don't respect you. I don't want to cause problems for you. Please, just go tell him that you're not going to see the saloon girl anymore." She blinked, and the tears that had been building up in her eyes were now falling down her face.

"Is THAT what you think this is about?" Matt asked incredulously. "Do you really think I give a damn what that man says about me? Kitty, it's _you_ I'm worried about. The people here—if they respect me, it's because I do this job with honesty and integrity, and they know I put my life on the line every single day to protect them. And at the end of that day, I don't think they much care where I sleep after I've done it."

"But it always had to be such a secret…" she started.

"Because it would put you in danger," Matt said insistently. "If it became common knowledge that we were lovers, every outlaw holding a grudge could use that against me. I can't do that to you, Kitty. Honey, you know that, I've made it clear since the beginning."

"I know," she said softly. "I guess part of me always wondered if that was the real reason."

Matt swallowed hard. It had never occurred to him that she might feel that way, and it made his heart ache.

"But it is," he said tenderly, getting up and pulling her up with him until they were in an embrace. He kissed her passionately, tasting the tears that were continuing to fall. "Kitty, I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back. She buried her head in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "What do we do now?" she asked.

"I have no idea," he responded.

**Saturday morning**

Kitty awoke earlier than usual, but she was grateful that she had at least gotten some sleep. She wasn't any less upset last night than she had been the previous night, but between Doc's sleeping powders and extreme emotional fatigue, her body had just collapsed. She hoped Matt had been able to get some sleep too, he had looked almost as bad as she had yesterday. Under normal circumstances she might know exactly how Matt Dillon had slept last night. However, as she was painfully aware, these were anything but normal circumstances.

She put on one of her casual dresses and brushed her hair, letting it hang down her back instead of twisting it up in her usual bun. She was a natural beauty but always felt better with a little makeup. And right now, she was going to do anything that made her feel better.

After making herself presentable, she came downstairs and put on a pot of coffee. She had taken only a few sips when Doc walked in.

"Good morning, Kitty," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "Did you get some sleep?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, smiling at this dear man she loved and trusted like a father. She had gone to him Friday evening, asking if he might give her something to help her sleep. It was impossible not to notice her haggard appearance, and he was naturally concerned. But she couldn't tell him what was wrong, it was too personal and too embarrassing. And he had accepted that, giving her the sleeping powders without further question, because Doc was just that kind of friend.

"How about we go to Delmonico's and get some breakfast," he said.

"Thanks Doc, but I'm not very hungry," she replied.

"Well, then, Delmonico's should be perfect," he said, continuing the familiar joke. She had to laugh. "Come on Kitty, just a piece of toast or something, you'll feel better. Doctor's orders."

"Alright," she agreed, and they headed off to breakfast.

A half piece of toast and a glass of orange juice proved to be Kitty's limit that morning. She wasn't nauseated anymore, she just had no appetite. But Doc figured at least she was getting some liquids and saying hydrated.

"Kitty, I don't know what is going on, but Matt doesn't seem to be in much better shape than you are. Did you two have a fight or something?" he asked. Doc was aware of the nature of their relationship, a fact that was accepted but never discussed directly.

"No, nothing like that, Doc," she replied. "I told you last night…I just can't talk about it. I'm so sorry."

"For thunder's sake, you don't need to apologize," he said. "I'm not trying to be nosy, I'm just worried about the both of you."

"I know," she smiled. Just then she looked up from her plate and saw Chester quickly making his way toward them.

"Pardon me, Miss Kitty, I don't mean to interrupt your meal," Chester said apologetically as he stopped at their table and took his hat off. "But Mister Dillon asked me to find Doc here and tell him that there is a woman who needs his assistance. Mister Dillon took her up to your office, Doc."

"What's the matter with her?" Doc asked.

"Well," Chester began uncomfortably, "It looks like she took a beating. Her face is bruised and she's walking kind of slow."

"Well Gosh almighty, who would do such a thing to a woman?" Doc asked, shaking his head as he got up from the table.

"She told Mister Dillon it was her husband," Chester replied.

"Chester, who is this woman?" Kitty asked.

"It's Mrs. Wright, the preacher's wife," he said, in a tone that indicated he couldn't quite believe it himself.

Kitty jumped up from the table and ran out of Delmonico's ahead of Doc, moving swiftly toward his office.

Julia was sitting on the table waiting to be examined when Kitty rushed in. Matt was standing next to her and their eyes locked briefly, each seeing the same pained, confused expression in the other. They had not been together since their talk at The Long Branch the previous day, and Kitty longed to rush into his arms for comfort. But then she caught the horrifying sight of Julia, with her black eye and swollen, split lip, holding her right arm gingerly around her left rib cage.

Kitty felt a sudden wave of guilt, as if she had let her friend down. Julia had always seemed to dismiss her unhappiness as a way of life—"Oh, you know how men are." Kitty indeed knew how some men were, but she also had the good fortune of knowing how her man was. She had gently broached the subject of leaving Frederick in earlier conversations, telling Julia that she didn't have to be unhappy—she could start over and Kitty would help her. But Julia didn't think that was an option for a preacher's wife. What would her father think? She just felt blessed to have such a caring friend, and she trusted Kitty enough to know that their conversations would go no further. Now Kitty was sure she could have—should have—done more. Especially after yesterday.

Kitty walked over to Julia and took her hand. "Honey, what happened?" she asked, still trying to process what Chester had said at Delmonico's.

"It's like I told the Marshal, my husband hit me," she replied matter-of-factly.

"But why?" Kitty asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"We had a disagreement. Frederick has a bad temper Kitty, you know that," she said. Matt shot Kitty a surprised look.

"So he got mad and hit me with his fist, right in the mouth," she continued. Her flat tone was oddly lacking the emotion one might expect when a woman is describing an act of violence perpetrated against her. "So hard that it knocked me into the side of the table, and then I fell onto the floor."

Doc had walked in shortly after Kitty and was listening to this story, sickened by the details.

"Where is your husband?" Kitty asked.

"Frederick ran out right after, I think he was scared of what he had done. He probably went over to the church. So I waited until I couldn't see him anymore, and I walked here myself," she said.

"Mrs. Wright, do you want to press charges?" Matt asked.

"Yes Marshal, I want to press charges," she replied confidently.

Doc took Julia's head in his hands and looked into her eyes, checking for signs of a concussion. "I need everybody to leave so I can examine this young lady," he said. Matt and Kitty nodded silently and pulled the door behind them as they walked outside. Standing on the small landing above the stairs, they quickly embraced, still stunned at what was happening.

"I guess I'll head out to the church," Matt sighed, descending the stairs to retrieve his horse.


	7. Chapter 7

The Preacher's Wife

Chapter 7

"_For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."_ _ Galatians 5:14_

**Sunday morning**

Julia had gladly accepted Kitty's offer to recuperate at her place. Doc had told her she would be fine but needed to rest and take it easy so that her bruised ribs and battered face could heal. He had wrapped her rib cage and put iodine on the cut, and Kitty was instructed to give her laudanum if the pain was preventing her from sleeping. But Julia decided she didn't need the medicine—she was going to sleep just fine.

Kitty brought a tray of biscuits and coffee into her room Sunday morning after hearing her stirring around. Julia was happy for both the nourishment and the company. Kitty had not pressed her for more details, believing that she had been through enough and not feeling up to talking about it herself just yet.

Doing a fine job of making small talk, Kitty commented that her lip already looked better and the day was promising to be sunny and crisp. Julia looked at the clock and said, "Church would be starting right about now, if they had a preacher."

Since Julia had opened that door, Kitty decided she might as well walk through it. "Julia, how did this happen? Do you want to talk about it?" She dreaded hearing the details, almost certain that the argument had started because of her.

"I don't mind talking about it," Julia said. "I told him that I've been seeing someone else behind his back since we moved here and that I was leaving him because of it."

Kitty's mouth flew open, unable to believe what she had just heard. "You what?! No, you couldn't—I mean, who?"

"You," she replied.

"Me?" Kitty said, completely confused. "I don't understand."

"Well, he didn't know we were friends, so I was seeing someone behind his back. And what he was doing to you and the Marshal…I prayed awfully hard over that, and I felt like God was telling me it was OK to leave. I didn't lie to him, Kitty. It's not my fault if he got the wrong idea from what I said," she explained.

"But why would you mislead him like that when he was always accusing you of looking at other men? Didn't you know that would provoke him?" Kitty asked, the answer hitting her like a ton of bricks as soon as the words left her lips.

"Yes," Julia said. "And now he's sitting in jail instead of giving that sermon. We're both free."

"Oh Julia, how could you take a chance like that? He could have killed you," she said, still in disbelief over what this woman had done.

"Frederick's a lot of things, but I don't think he's a killer" she said. "And if it turned out he was…well, that life wasn't much worth living anyway. It was a chance I had to take. Even if it only helped you, it was worth it."

Kitty's eyes welled up with tears. "You are quite a woman, Julia Wright," she said.

"Julia Clemens," she corrected, referring to her maiden name. "I just wish I could have seen the look on Frederick's face when the Marshal arrested him," she said, slightly smiling.

"Me too," Kitty had to admit. "I was a little worried when Matt left to go after him, knowing how Frederick feels about Matt. I thought he might try to put up a fight."

"Oh, I doubt it," Julia said. "He might be crazy but he's not stupid. Marshal Dillon is a much bigger man than he is. In every way," she added.

Kitty smiled at the comment. Indeed, he was.

"Kitty, what is it like to be loved by such a good man?" Julia asked. She truly didn't know, in any sense of the word.

"Oh…well…I, um…" Kitty sputtered, caught completely off guard. Her relationship with Matt had been the catalyst for this whole nightmarish sequence of events, and they had never really talked about it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Julia said. "It's just…well, I noticed the way he was looking at you at the restaurant the other night. I mean, you're a beautiful woman and I'm sure lots of men look at you, but it wasn't like that. It wasn't a lustful look…it was like his whole world revolved around you."

Kitty felt a little flutter in her stomach.

"Well, maybe there was a _little_ lust there," Julia continued, quickly bringing her hand to her mouth as if she couldn't believe she had said that out loud.

They both dissolved in laughter, the first time Julia had laughed that hard in a very long time. Kitty put her hand on the girl's arm and gently squeezed it. "One day there will be someone in your life who deserves you. And he will have to be a very special man."

The afternoon stage was ready to leave, and Matt and Chester heaved two large suitcases onto the luggage area. It had been just over a week since her ordeal, and Doc had declared Julia well enough to travel. She was going to stay with her sister and brother-in-law in Wichita for a while, until she got on her feet. She and her sister had been close growing up, and she was looking forward to them getting reacquainted. Then, she had decided, she was going to find a job—maybe as a seamstress, she loved to sew and was good at it. She wanted to know what it felt like to take care of herself.

Matt tipped his hat and nodded as he faced the woman who had risked everything to help a friend. "Goodbye Julia," he said. "I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, Marshal," she said warmly. "You take care of yourself."

With that, Matt left Kitty to say her goodbyes. They hugged tightly, the saloon owner and the preacher's wife—two women who could not have come from more different places, but who had shared a common desire to change the courses of their lives, and the uncommon courage to do so.

"Are you sure you're OK with all this?" Kitty asked, knowing that Julia was heading in a direction she could not have possibly imagined a few months ago.

"I am. I know my Pa isn't going to approve, and I'm sorry about that," she said. But I can't worry about what other people think. I have to follow my heart and be in charge of my own happiness. You taught me that, Kitty. You have been a Godsend."

"So have you," Kitty said through tears. "Promise you'll keep in touch."

"I promise," she replied.

Matt and Kitty watched the stage pull away together. "What's going to happen to our friend, Reverend Wright?" she asked, not particularly concerned about the answer.

"He has a hearing tomorrow. I expect he'll get a fine and time served," Matt said. He'll leave town before the new preacher arrives, he'd be too embarrassed not to. I'm pretty sure we've seen the last of him."

Kitty sighed, then looked up at him and smiled. "Buy you a drink, Cowboy?"

"I never turn down a drink from a pretty lady," he replied.

"Are you free later tonight? I know something else you never turn down," she teased.

Matt shot her a quick wink as they headed over to The Long Branch together.

The End.


End file.
